Lover I Don't Have To Love
by Flashing The Floods
Summary: Modern AU. Katniss breaks her engagement to Peeta, so he heads to the bar and hooks up with an enticing stranger. Slash, Gale/Peeta. Non-graphic :P


**Influenced by the song by Bright Eyes. Also a vent fic T.T **

"It's over Peeta, I'm sorry." The works left Katniss's lips, but she didn't sound sorry at all. She sounded stern, as if she were lecturing him on something and not breaking off their five month engagement. She didn't even look sorry, her beautiful smokey eyes were remote and uncomfortable, as if this were a tedious ordeal for her and she just wanted to get it over with.

Peeta stared in pained disbelief, struggling to say something. To beg her not to leave, to beg her not to end this. He wanted to tell her he loved her and whatever the problem was he'd fix it, and they would overcome it together. He wanted to tell her not to do this, not to do this now and everything would be better after they were married, but he found he couldn't. Peeta felt his heart shatter in his chest, but the words he wanted to say died in his throat. He found he couldn't do a single thing as his fiancée slid the ring off her finger, put it on the table and left the apartment.

He slumped back against the leather couch and just stared at the ring on the coffee table, the beautiful diamond ring he'd bought for her five short months ago. Really, he should have seen this coming. No, he _had_ seen it coming. Just pretended he didn't, because the thought of losing Katniss was too painful. He just pushed the distance that was growing between them out of his mind, and feigned blindness to her doubt in the hopes that it was a phase that would pass.

But it wasn't, and now she'd actually left him. The moment had actually happened, come and passed, was done and real. Katniss left Peeta, and all he could do was stare at the ring that should have been on her finger. "I need a drink." He said the words before the idea even fully registered, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair and pulling himself to a stand.

Twenty minutes later he was sitting on a barstool in Haymitch's Pub, downing his bottle of something-or-other. Peeta didn't remember what he ordered, just that it was one of tonight's specials. It was alcohol, that's all that mattered. Legally, at the age of 18 Peeta shouldn't be drinking at all but Haymitch was one of those mellow bartenders who really didn't give a fuck who drank what, so long as he was getting paid. He ordered another and drank it heartily, casting an impassive glance to the stage where some Indie band was playing some song he was sure he'd heard before, but couldn't care to remember.

As he looked on, Peeta realized with mild surprise that he was drawn to the singer. Why was that? Maybe he'd seen him before? He peered a little closer and realized the man did seem familiar. Tall, dark hair that wasn't quite dark enough to be black, olive skin. Then it hit him, the guy looked like Katniss. Not a lot, but just enough to remind Peeta of his former fiancée. Well wasn't that just wonderful? Even here he couldn't escape her. He downed the rest of his drink and ordered a third. Despite himself, as Peeta took a swig he found himself looking to the stage again.

The blonde studied the singer for a second time, eyes traveling from the man's converse, to his torn jeans, to his faded red shirt and then lingering on his face. He wasn't surprised to see that even the guy's eyes were like hers, steely gray and looking at the crowd…No, no they weren't. Peeta frowned at the realization the singer's eyes were on him. He was looking right at Peeta. Shit. He turned around again and took another long swig of his drink, suddenly compelled to leave the bar, but not having enough motivation to do so.

"Caught you staring at me." A voice teased what couldn't have been five minutes later, while Peeta's lips were touching his fourth bottle. He lifted his eyes to the man that was now sitting next to him, that damned singer with the Katniss likeness. "Yeah, well people tend to stare at you when you're on stage," muttered Peeta. The man shrugged, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth. "True, but you're the one I picked out of the crowd."

"Why's that?" The blonde asked with mild annoyance, raising an eyebrow. The singer shrugged again, unperturbed by Peeta's unfriendliness. "Dunno, maybe cause I like your shoes." The blonde scoffed, the answer catching him off guard. That was just utterly ridiculous. First of all, there was no way the man could have seen his shoes while he was on stage like that, and second of all Peeta's shoes were the last thing someone would notice about him. They were your everyday off brand tennis shoes, black and navy.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't your shoes," said the singer, grinning in a way that was both sheepish and confident "You still caught my eye. I'm Gale what's your name?" Peeta sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for this…this small talk. "Do you know what time it is?" He asked wearily, planning to make up an excuse for needing to be somewhere exactly fifteen minutes from whatever time it was. Peeta would have just made the excuse without asking, but he really had lost track of the time. Gale lifted an eyebrow, that grin of his growing more confident by the second. "Why? You got somewhere to be?" The blonde nodded. Gale snickered. "It sure don't look like it."

Great, Peeta'd found himself a smart ass. "Okay fine, so I don't have anywhere to be," replied the blonde, "But I don't have time for you either." His words came off a little sharper than he'd meant them to, but it was true. He didn't want to spend time talking to this…this Gale, he just wanted to get drunk. "You had a bad day, didn't you?" The brunette asked. Peeta laughed bitterly. "You could call it that. More like the worst day of my life."

"Bummer," muttered Gale as he patted Peeta on the back. The blonde didn't mind the sympathy or the touch as much as he thought he would. "So you're here in the bar, drinking away your sorrows and you're saying it's the worst day of your life. I bet a girl caused this, right?" Peeta smirked a bit. "Bingo."

"She left you?"

"Right you are."

"And you can't get her off your mind?"

"Right you are for the third time." Peeta muttered, taking another swig of his booze.

"Maybe I could help you with that," murmured Gale, and then he was leaning over so close Peeta could smell him. To the blonde's chagrin, he found the other man's scent appealing. Like citrus. He closed his eyes and focused on that scent, how different it was from hers and yet just as attractive. He could also feel Gale's body heat, warm and inviting. The flirtatious singer was slightly more tempting than a night of illegally drinking and returning to an empty apartment. "Fine, you can help me." He opened his eyes and downed the remainder of the drink, putting a tip on the table and turning back to Gale. "Lead the way."

The brunette grinned and nodded, standing up. "Of course." He started to push his way through the crowd and Peeta followed closely. He held the door open for Peeta, which the blonde found a little funny. The guy who sought him out for a fuck was acting like a gentleman. "That's cute." He said as he walked out the open door. "I think you're cute," Gale replied, smirking as he let go of it.

Peeta chuckled softly. "I couldn't tell. So where are we going?"

"Just up the block. I don't live around here, just got a hotel room"

"Gotcha."

They didn't talk much as Gale led him to the hotel, but the silence wasn't an awkward one. Both males were content on the short walk, and though Peeta found it unusual that his hand was in Gale's, he didn't mind it at all. As the taller man led him up the stairs and to the door, the blonde suddenly found this situation a _good deal more_ appealing than the alternative. Though, if it turned out to be a mistake he could always blame it on the buzz. "Oh, when we passed the club it was closed," said Gale suddenly as he swiped the keycard across the lock. "So that means it's at least two 'o clock."

Peeta tilted his head in confusion. "What?" Gale snickered. "You asked me the time earlier, so that's what time it is." The blonde blinked slowly. "Oh, well…" He shrugged. "I really didn't have anywhere to be anyway."

"I'm aware." And then the brunette took his hand again and led him inside the room, flicking on a dim light and locking the door behind them. There wasn't anymore talking, and once they reached the bedroom there couldn't have been any, since Gale smashed his lips to Peeta's. Peeta pushed his right back, throwing his arms around the brunette and pressing against him. There wasn't any hesitance between them at all, and even though the woman he'd planned to marry left him only hours before, the blonde felt no guilt when the taller man swiped his tongue across his mouth and nipped his lower lip.

He grazed Gale's lip with his own teeth and pulled insistently at the singer's clothes, pushed to the mattress and straddled before he was granted the permission to pull them off. He did so greedily, his own clothes ripped away seconds after. Tan hands explored fair flesh, and vice versa, breaths hitching when the tender spots were carressed. But it wasn't just touching for long.

The sex was satisfying for the both of them, a welcome distraction for Peeta besides the fact he would have enjoyed it even if he didn't need one. Afterward, the two laid on the sprawled comforter in each other's arms, neither saying a word until the phone started ringing. Gale glanced down to it then back to Peeta. "It's just the band leaving. I'll meet up with them in the morning, if you want to stick around for the night. It is pretty late." The blonde nodded wearily. "Yeah, I'll stick around." That was a lot better than going back to the apartment that he no longer shared with Katniss Everdeen.

"Okay." The brunette shifted slightly, one arm still draped over Peeta. The blonde sighed softly and rolled over, resting his head on Gale's chest. It was nice, hooking up with a stranger and having a lover you didn't have to love. Real love was just an excuse to get hurt.


End file.
